


Divine Reflection

by sporadic_obsession



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, mentions of homophobic behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 06:26:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10457475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sporadic_obsession/pseuds/sporadic_obsession
Summary: "You live in a world where every mental scar leaves a physical mark on your body, but they are only visible in mirrors. You’re covered in them, but you don’t shy away from mirrors, not anymore at least." -- taken from Writing Prompts on Tumblr (http://writing-prompt-s.tumblr.com/post/158360645550/you-live-in-a-world-were-every-mental-scar-leaves)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, folks! Another small destiel fic to get you through the day, with a little motivational driving force towards the end, I guess.  
> Basically, I stumbled upon that while looking for a nice prompt to work with, and inspiration struck. I'm quite happy with the result, I can only hope you feel the same!  
> If you do, please don't forget to leave a comment or a kudo just so that I don't end up wallowing in self-pity.  
> I'm kidding.  
> Mostly.
> 
> Okay I'll let you read the story now!

Dean hated mirrors. Ever since he was child, Dean Winchester hated having to stand in front of mirrors, Ever since the first time his father called him “useless”, after he forgot to give Sammy his lunch because he was too sick to get out of bed, he’d dreaded mirrors. Not because that was the first time he saw a scar - there was a deep scar above his heart from when he was just four, which was his first - but because that’s when the scars began multiplying. Every day, Dean would look at his reflection and notice a brand new scar; sometimes something small and barely noticeable, like the one on the pad of his thumb, and other times something allarmingly large, like the one that ran across the left side of his face.

The older Dean got, the more scars appeared. Above his eyebrow from that first time his father called him a faggot, upon seeing him holding hands with his first boyfriend, Aaron. On his neck, from when Aaron was beaten to a pulp and left outside his door, no doubt a courtesy of the judgemental, homophobic group of bikers they walked past every day on their way to school. He even had one on his left knee from when he got beaten up himself by the same group, although that one was nicely paired with a substantial, actually visible one that meant he never wore shorts so long as he lived.

So, yes, Dean Winchester hated mirrors. Because mirrors were the only place where his mental scars were seen, and he couldn’t stand to look at everything he’d been through. Dean couldn’t stand to watch his skin transform from what others saw, couldn’t stand to look at all those reminders that he had suffered, that he was worthless, that he had failed.

That is, until he met Castiel.

Castiel Novak was, for lack of a better word, unexpected. The first time Dean saw the other man, he was dressed in a rumpled suit, tie askew as his trenchcoat flapped behind him, running to try and make it to the bus stop before the rain completely drenched through his clothing. Dean wasn’t sure why he caught his attention in particular, or why he stopped his car long enough to offer a ride to a perfect stranger, but what baffled him even more was that Castiel said yes. Even though they had never met before, the second Castiel was inside Dean’s well-loved car, he immediately reached for the radio to turn it up louder as if he had a claim on it, simply grinning sideways at the driver as he stated that was his favorite song in the world.

Dean let it slide, but only because that was his favorite song, too.

The two of them sang along to AC/DC’s Back to Black without fear, although Dean had to do his best not to wince every time he caught sight of himself in the rearview mirror. Usually, he didn’t mind his reflection so much when he was driving, because he had a lot of better things to focus on, but this was the first time he had someone else in the car with him in a long time. If Castiel looked in the rearview mirror at the right angle, he would see Dean’s face on it, see all of the scars that were scattered across his skin; Dean dreaded that thought. So, he strategically placed himself so that his reflection would hardly be seen in the mirror, so that Castiel wouldn’t get a glimpse of what Dean had grown so ashamed of.

It was only after Dean had dropped Castiel off outside a bakery in town that he realised he hadn’t gotten his name. For some reason, that disappointment him; he’d liked singing with Castiel, weird as it was, and after that song was over they’d gotten to talk a little bit - about music, most of all - and he’d enjoyed himself enough to want to see the man again. He hadn’t had that much fun talking to someone in a long time, possibly years, and was selfish enough to want to see him again. He was already close to his house by now, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the other man. He could easily turn the car around, park by the bakery he’d never given a second glance to, and go find him insid; he’d gone in barely five minutes before, it was highly likely he was still there, after all.

So that’s what Dean did.

Deciding, for once in his life dictated by a father long gone, to pursue something that made him happy. Even if it was just someone who could hopefully become a new friend, and who wouldn’t find his behavior weird. He didn’t dare think of that, though, because he knew he had a tendency to talk himself out of things very easily, and he didn’t want to lose the chance to see the blue-eyed man again. Before long, he was parked and ready to go inside the bakery, looking up at the name that was written above the door -- Divine Reflection. Dean thought that was a bit of a weird name for a bakery, but what would he know, he was just a low-life bluecollar mechanic, he didn’t understand something as complicated as naming a bakery.

Going in, Dean was not ready for what he saw. On the opposite side of the door, the wall was taken over with a big mirror and, really, he should’ve seen it coming; the name of the bakery was enough of a hint, after all. He was standing still, frozen in front of the door, seeing his reflection staring back at him, longer than just for a few necessary seconds for the first time in many, many years. Ever since he was four, he hadn’t looked at himself in a mirror for longer than a minute at a time, unable to handle the overwhelming amount of scars that littered his skin, but now, twenty-five years later, he couldn’t move and look away, even though all he wanted to do was run from that place as fast as he could. He had scars on his hands, up his arms, on his neck, and even on his face; he was cursing the fact he was only wearing a dirty t-shirt after his long day of work, despite the weather, and hadn’t thought to put on even a meager jacket in his haste to find the blue-eyed stranger he’d rescued from the rain.  
The same blue-eyed stranger who was standing behind the counter, now void of his trenchcoat and with his white button-up’s sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a strike of flour on his dark, messy hair and a kind smile on his lips as he spoke to a customer while handing them the change for their purchase. He hadn’t noticed Dean yet, hadn’t spotted his terrified green eyes as he glanced between him and the large mirror, so Dean knew he had a chance to escape. He still had an opportunity to run, to never think back, to not give the stranger the single moment he needed to look at him, and then at the mirror, and see how scarred he was; give him all the excuse he needed to never want to see Dean again, based only on the fact that he was so flawed, so broken and thorn on the inside, that he showed to heavily on his reflection.

He could’ve run, could’ve turned around at any moment, but he didn’t, and ended up losing his opportunity when the blue-eyed stranger lifted his eyes to watch his current customer leave the shop (without even second-glancing at Dean’s frozen figure, much to his gratefulness) and his blue orbs caught green, and he smiled - not as widely as he had when he’d first heard Back to Black playing in the car, but still as heartfelt, if not more.  
“You can move over here if you feel more comfortable. There’s no mirror here,” the stranger - bakery worker, possibly owner by how he didn’t wear an apron even though he was behind the counter and had obviously been working on the pastries himself - pointed over to where he stood. Dean was puzzled for a moment, because the stranger was inviting a man he didn’t know into his workspace without even a second thought, but he didn’t have to wonder for long. “You told me how much you loved your car, yet you still gave me a ride without question. I think I’m safe to reciprocate the gesture.”

Okay, so that made a lot more sense than Dean had expected, and he was grateful - and very quick - to accept the offer and make his way over to where the stranger was standing behind the counter, all his muscles relaxing as soon as his reflection was out reach. Still, now that he wasn’t faced with his biggest enemy, he felt the nerves come back and hit him full force as he stared into the blue-eyes he was already pretty hooked on, and knew he had to explain why he was here.

“Uh. We, uh, never exchanged names,” Dean said quickly, before the question of what he was doing here could be asked. Even though he had only mumbled, he could tell the stranger had heard him loud and clear, because the corners of his eyes crinkled up, and his smile became even more sentimental than it already was. For some reason, seeing that brought a slight blush to Dean’s cheeks, which he wanted gone before long. “I’m Dean,” he pressed on, clearing his throat as he tried to rid himself of the offending color of his cheeks.

“Castiel,” the stranger - Castiel - replied immediately. He didn’t offer his hand for Dean to shake, but he wasn’t bothered; that would’ve been way too formal, considered how they’d already been in each other’s company for a while, and had quickly developped a friendly form of conversation; a handshake would just make everything awkward. “I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but we’ve already met. It’s good to know your name, however. Definetely easier to refer to you as ‘Dean’ instead of ‘the man who offered me a lift for no apparent reason’,” he spoke jokingly but with a hint of truth, and the blush in Dean’s cheeks only deepened. “Would you like a piece of pie, Dean? I have some fresh out the oven, and after all your effort to come introduce yourself, I feel you deserve it.”

Dean’s mouth salivated just at the thought of warm pie, but he tried his hardest to keep his cool; no reason to make a fool himself in front of Castiel more than he already had.  
“Sure,” he replied calmly, before glancing over the tables; all of them were reflected in the big mirror, and Dean dreaded having to go sit in there. He didn’t want to face his reflection, but didn’t want to turn his back on it either because who knew what was being reflected, what Castiel could see? No, there was no chance he could sit there. “Can we, uh. Not sit there, thought?,” he asked quietly, trying to go for nonchalance; he didn’t like to be vulnerable, even if Castiel had already figured that he was uncomfortable with his reflection.

“There’s a table in the back we can sit at. I’ll just ask Gabriel to man the front while we’re eating,” the blue-eyed man said with a smile, not even hesitating. Dean wondered if he was the first person Castiel had offered to take out back, if he was the first person who’d been so terrified of his reflection he couldn’t stand to move. “Gabriel! I need you up front!,” Castiel called loudly, and only a few seconds later a short, sandy-haired man was walking through the kitchen door to take Castiel’s place. Dean could see Gabriel eye him for a second, but before they could be introduced, or even wave at each other, Castiel was already holding his wrist, dragging him through the same door Gabriel had just left.

On the other side of the door, the kitchen was just what Dean had expected, considering all the cooking and baking shows he watched when he was at home; a lot of state of the art appliances, shining in silver, and a big mess on what he figured was the preparation counter - there was flour all over it, along with plenty of things Dean couldn’t identify from this far. Besides, his attention was on the small table where Castiel led him, a vintage thing that looked out of place in such a modern area.  
“Take a seat, I’ll grab us the pie. Coffee?,” Castiel asked, taking off to grab their food when Dean nodded to the offer. He was an odd guy, Dean figured; offering him pie and coffee without asking questions, simply because Dean had come to introduce himself. Not that he was complaining - he loved his pie, and coffee as well, and he didn’t mind spending some more time in the other’s company. That was the whole reason he’d come here, anyway; because he wanted to stretch the feeling of easiness that came when he’d been with Castiel, earlier that day. As he came back, Dean smiled while he watched him balance two plates with pie on them, and two cups of coffee on his other hand. “Okay, so it’s cherry pie, I didn’t even think to ask if you liked that. Do you?”

“I like all kinds’a pie,” Dean replied quickly, reaching out to relieve Castiel of what he was carrying. Only when everything was ready for them to dig in - with Castiel running back to grab some forks for their pie, and spoons and sugar for their coffee - did Dean sit down, taking a piece of his pie and eating it straight away, moaning lowly as his tastebuds got a hold of it. “Wow,” he commented, after he’d taken his sweet time to chew and swallow, “now I know why the bakery’s so divine.”

His words brought a laugh out of Castiel, and Dean couldn’t help but grin at his amusement around his fork. The pie was really good, he wasn’t exaggerating, but obviously Castiel found him to be funny. Dean wasn’t about to deny that, he had always known he could be pretty hilarious.

“I’ll tell Gabriel you find the name accurate enough,” Castiel spoke in his rough tone of his, a smile gracing his lips as he lifted his mug to sip on his coffee. “And thank you for the compliment, I have worked hard to make my pies the best they can be,” he mentioned afterwards, his grin softer.

For a while, neither of the two spoke; Dean was too preoccupied with his pie, even foregoing drinking his coffee until the last crumb was gone, and Castiel just seemed to be quiet by nature. It didn’t feel awkward, though, eating pie and drinking coffee in the kitchen of a man he barely knew; didn’t feel like he had to force a conversation to get rid of any kind of weird atmosphere. They could just exist in the same place. Still, Dean found himself speaking as he took small sips of his dark beverage.  
“So, do you always bring people back here for coffee and pie?”

The question gave Castiel pause, Dean could notice. But even though he watched the man think over his answer, he still wasn’t prepared for it when it came.

“No,” Castiel said quietly, pensative. “You’re not the first who needs a little time to breathe after walking in, don’t get me wrong, but I usually just offer to talk to them outside, and help them come back in. That didn’t seem like what you deserved, however, especially after putting up with that just to come see me, so a little pie was in order.” It was a quiet, rational explanation, Dean was able to accept it easily. What really threw him off was when Castiel continued to speak. “I usually reserve this space for when I need to take a break from being in there,” he nodded with his head towards the front, “bussing tables and looking at my scars all day; watching the people look at them, see them and try to figure out what they mean. It can be quite tiring.”

Dean stared at Castiel in silence, the meaning of his words washing over him in slow motion. Dean had always known other people had scars; it was common knowledge that everyone had at least one, because was never perfect and the scars were bound to be there... But he’d never given it a second thought; he’d never cared if they had scars or not, had never been curious about it. His own scars were more than enough to keep his thoughts running, and, because he avoided mirrors so much, he had never caught someone else’s reflection in one. But here Castiel was, with his soft smile and kind eyes, openly telling Dean that yes, he was scarred to; and, from the sound of it, not just a tiny little scar either.  
“You have scars?,” was the automatic question that left Dean’s lips. He winced at his own insensitivity right after, thought, and rushed to continue. “Shit, that’s not- okay, that was way too fuckin’ rude. I just- I didn’t think, I never figured-” Dean was stumped on what to say, and was expecting Castiel to either laugh at how stupid he sounded, or get angry that he assumed anything about him and order him to leave. He did none of the two, however, and just gave a slight nod with a smile to match.

“I do. I’d offer to show you, but that would require being in front of the mirror, and I have a feeling that’s not something you’re comfortable with,” the blue-eyed man said gently. He wasn’t judging Dean for being scared, he wasn’t even judging him for being flawed enough to not want to see his reflection; he was being understanding and kind, and Dean wished he had his courage, for a moment. Offering to show someone his scars was as terrifying of a thought as the one of riding on a plane. “I used to be like that too, and I would still be if it wasn’t for Gabriel. By the time I finished my degree, I was comfortable enough with myself, with my past, that I didn’t even hesitate when he presented the idea of the bakery to me.”

“You have a degree?”

The conversation flew, from there, to much less heavy topics. As it turned out, Castiel was a psychology major who loved to bake as much as he liked to help people, and the bakery was exactly for that - while some people come for the food only, others came to talk to Castiel, a few select even on a regular basis. It was just like a normal psychologist’s office, except they had warm food and coffee at all times. Dean felt awestruck at Castiel’s intelligence, at how kind he was to do what he did, but also felt empowered when Castiel explained that Dean’s own job was very important to. Castiel knew nothing about cars, Dean found out, and that was the reason why he’d been rushing through the rain, that day; his car had broken down when he’d left for work, and he had no clue how to fix it.  
From their jobs to their family, from their hobbies to their pet peeves, the two talked about every topic that was brushed upon as their conversation went. Dean found out that Castiel was the younger of five siblings, and told Castiel all about Sammy and his wife and kids. They talked about their parents, about their past relationships, about the first time they’d heard their favorite song. It took them hours to realize they’d gotten carried away, and by then the bakery was bursting with life as people came to have their nightly dessert and coffee as the rain cleared out.  
“Oh.” Castiel noticed the time at last, at the same time Dean did. “Wow. I hadn’t realized it was this late, already. No wonder the noise outside has multiplied, we have a lot of people coming in after dinner...”

“Do you need me to get out of your hair? I should prob’ly be headed home anyway, gotta feed the mutt ‘fore he chews out all my furniture,” Dean replied quickly, already standing up. His legs felt stiff from being sat down for so long, but he grinned at Castiel anyway. Their conversation had been good, and Dean - despite his rough entrance to the bakery - was glad he’d come. He hadn’t talked with anyone so freely in a long time, and it satisfied an old need in his soul for that sort of companionship.

“Well, you don’t need to leave on my account, but your dog might miss you quite a lot, by now,” Castiel, who had beamed with childish happiness when first hearing about the husky dog Dean had in his home, said. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow? I’m planning on making a blueberry pie, I could save you a piece or two,” he offered, blue eyes wide and hopeful. Dean couldn’t look away from his eyes, couldn’t even speak so entranced he was with them, but he managed a nod, which was enough to light up Castiel’s entire face. “Great! I’ll be expecting you, then.” He paused for a second, then, his expression growing serious. “Dean, I’m afraid the only door we have is out front... Would you like me to come with you?”

Dean considered the offer for a second. In the silence, he could hear the sounds of people talking, groups of them, and he believed Castiel that the bakery must be quite busy. That meant there were more people who’d be able to see his scars when he made his way to the door, and that was enough to make his stomach clench in fear. If he took Castiel on his offer, he could act as some kind of shield, a distraction, but that meant that he could glance at the mirror at any time and take notice of Dean’s scars. Was Dean willing to do that? Was he willing to risk it?

“Sure, Cas.”

He surprised himself with his reply, and fear gnawed at his heart as he saw his friend nod and stand up. Running a hand through his hair, he took a shaky breath as he walked in front of Castiel across the kitchen. Just when they reached the door he stopped, and couldn’t help but glance back at the other man. He knew the fear was visible in his eyes, but that was eased as Castiel smiled encouragingly at him and, gently, grabbed hold of his hand. Dean glanced down at that, but before the other could pull back, he laced their fingers. He felt stronger this way, his heart didn’t beat as loudly as before.  
Squeezing Castiel’s hand in his, Dean finally swung the door open and kept his head held high as he walked slowly from behind the counter. When he took his first step in the area that was caught by the mirror, he tensed up slightly, but Castiel’s thumb carressed the back of his hand gently. Unknowingly, he was carressing one of Dean’s old scars, and that... that felt strangely good. Unable to help himself, Dean stopped just by the mirror, and took a look at himself. He noticed how Castiel kept his eyes averted, and took a few moments to glance at his own reflection. His skin was still covered in scars, but now they didn’t seem so scary. They were a testimony of his strength, because he had survived every single one of them; he was not weak for having scars, he was powerful because he was still alive, despite them.

That realization was sudden, but welcome. As he stared at himself, Dean began to relax once again, and his eyes flickered to Cas’ reflection. He knew it was unfair to look, but he couldn’t help himself - he wanted to see how strong Castiel was, too. He didn’t have as many scars as Dean, as far as he could see, but they were longer, deeper; there was one over Castiel’s right cheek, another up his left arm, and Dean spotted a small one on the back of the hand he was currently holding. Despite that, Dean couldn’t help but think he was still beautiful; maybe even more, now, that Dean could physically see that, just like himself, he wasn’t perfect. He’d suffered, too, and he’d been strong enough to make it through.  
“Hey, Cas,” he called quietly. He was aware of the people watching them, but, for the time being, he didn’t care. He heard Castiel hum an acknowledgement of his call, but his eyes were closed. That’s not what Dean wanted, right now. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered to him, watching his face, not through the mirror, take on a soft smile as his eyes opened slowly. “You know what’cha said earlier, about learning to accept your scars? I think you’ve done that for me,” he said quickly, nodding towards the mirror before looking at it himself. He watched through it as Castiel turned his head and took in their reflection, no sense of surprise on his face as he quickly assessed the scars he could see on Dean’s body.

“You’re a strong, beautiful man, Dean Winchester,” Castiel said reverently.

From that moment on, Dean was never scared to face a mirror again.


End file.
